


Do Not Wander Alone

by Owlheart101



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst and Feels, DO NOT SHIP TOMMY AND TUBBO, Dream SMP characters - Freeform, Dream Team SMP Spoilers, F/M, Light Angst, Manberg Festival on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Manberg-Pogtopia War on Dream Team SMP Spoilers (Video Blogging RPF), Minecraft, Original Character(s), Other, Platonic Relationships, Post-Manberg Festival on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-14 22:27:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28553097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Owlheart101/pseuds/Owlheart101
Summary: There was war, there were friends, there was a girl, there were many endings.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/Original Female Character, Technoblade/Original Female Character
Comments: 3
Kudos: 27





	1. A War-Torn Face

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading!! This is just a fun OC-insert in the Dream SMP. Evidently, not everything in here is canon! The work will be entirely based in the world of the server, and will not discuss the actual creators. This is roleplay! Please do not forget <3 and always respect everyone both in and out of chat!

_Rust creeped along the sky, lighting the dangerous night with dim sunlight. My breath fluttered upwards as the bated mist sought warmth. The pine forest stood near still, save for the footsteps crackling like thin ice, echoing right ahead of me and trailing somewhere behind. I glanced over my shoulder at a joyous shout, looking for our companions, but caught only a brief flash of blue. Looking back forward, I blinked at the green silhouette stalking ahead._

  
_“This doesn’t seem like much of a city,” I ventured, smiling at the back of the near stranger._

  
_A thin laugh came from the hidden face. “I know, I know. But soon, I promise you, this place will be great. Besides, we aren’t really there yet.”_

  
_I rubbed my hands together. The nerves melted with the early frost, and I wondered who else had found themselves starting anew. “Okay, Dream.”_

  
***

  
My backpack slapped against my back as I hurried down the hill. Turning back to make sure no one was watching, I stumbled, nearly rolling down to the bottom. I huffed, hefting the overstuffed bag higher on my shoulders. L’manberg stared down as I jogged into the forest. Once swallowed by the branches, hearing nothing but birds around, I tossed the clanking bag onto the ground before me, gritting my teeth with effort. Unbuckling the many clasps, I began putting on my armour once more with shaking fingers, thinking hard on the conversation I’d had only minutes ago.

  
Tubbo, face round and shining, accepting a bag of coral for a handful of diamonds. The reef was far, and someone so close to the president couldn’t make the journey. I’d smiled as he rambled about plans for a dock, a fishing spot, a deep and clean ocean, giggling at the bizarre mention of so many dogs. His face had gone pale at a scratchy, loud voice.

  
Schlatt, horns gleaming in the sun, had smirked down at us in his never-dirtied suit. “Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask you, Wander. Would you happen to sell TNT?”

  
I’d dipped my head. “I don’t sell weapons, Mr. President.”

  
Snapping the last clasp on my leg pieces, I blinked, returning to the gently swaying forest. I picked up the bag again, sighing in relief at the lesser weight. I thought no armour in L’manberg was a good rule, but it certainly didn’t help my worn shoulders. I picked up the pace again, making my way through the wilderness.

  
After the exile of Wilbur and Tommy, I’d kept a low profile in L’manberg, largely dividing my time between Pogtopia and the city itself. My wares became scarcer, my customer base more particular. The lack of weapons wasn’t a new rule but became more strictly enforced. So far, power was tauntingly out of reach, and I chose to spit on the presidency only by limiting them from myself. This government was all about who you were friends with. I recalled telling Schlatt I wasn’t a L’manberg citizen, never officially had been, and watching the anger flare in his eyes as he realized I’d slipped from his grasp. He had nothing over me. In return, unfortunately, I had nothing over him.

  
I looked upwards, hoping to see a thin, hideous cobblestone landmark. The few parcels remaining bounced in rhythm. A book for Fundy, a stack of coal for Tommy… I hadn’t picked up Wilbur’s request yet. His brown eyes looked too deep these days.  
Generally, I chose not to think about Dream and his crew. The moment my mind weaved back to them, I was swallowing against rising hurt and temper. He never asked for deliveries anyways.

  
Swiftly returning to the underground lair hesitantly called home, I was heralded by Tommy. His blue eyes darted around, his foot tapped on the ground with boundless energy, blurting out that we had a new ally in Pogtopia.

  
“Niki?” I asked hopefully. She’d yet to escape L’manberg, and Schlatt waved her over our heads every day.

  
Tommy shook his head, waving my down into the cave. Descending the rickety stairs, I wondered about the mysterious man Wilbur fondly spoke of, a gentle yet powerful soul, and if he’d finally returned to see his friend. Instead, the face waiting impatiently below was one I’d hardly believed real.

  
Small fangs jutting from a wide jaw, a long messy braid and a deep red velvet cape made Technoblade impossible to miss, but I first noticed his small, near black eyes. Sharp and cold. I extended a hand, and he blinked at it in mild surprise.

  
“Wander,” I said, grinning. “That’s quite the axe.”

  
His lips tugged upwards. “I hear you’ve got a failing revolution.”


	2. The Soldiers Are People

_“No, you need to keep your head up, or you won’t be able to see.”_

_I groaned, lifting my chin dutifully. “Dream, I have to go meet Fundy soon.”_

_“Hey, you asked me to help!” Dream laughed. “How is it my fault that you’re so incredibly bad at this?”_

_Mumbling under my breath, but with a smile, I threw myself at the cloaked man again. As I raced across the sand, Dream stood and waited, knees slightly bent. His off-white mask stared at me unnervingly, the expression never wavering. Right, left, right… His head tilted slightly, and I could imagine him rolling colourless eyes. Yet again, I charged him in the same pattern, and he’d be tiring of this strategy by now, yes, raising his axe to sideswipe my legs, except… At the last moment, I threw my shield into his hit, using all my momentum to knock him off-balance. He staggered, and I lifted my wooden sword, aiming for his neck. Beginning to feel the elation of victory, I shifted to the flat of blade, knowing it was too late for Dream to react. His hood shifted, and he turned his head away, shrinking below the hit… and moved the inch far enough for my dull blade to clatter against his ear. The sword tip braced under his mask, snapping the string and sending the hardened clay skidding in the sand._

_Dream made a strangled sort of sound and scrambled for the article. I clapped a hand over my eyes, apologizing profusely._

_“Dream, fuck, I didn’t mean to-”_

_“It’s fine.” For once, he sounded out of breath, and I stood limply, suddenly feeling very small. “We’re outside of the SMP, no one else would have seen. You-” He stopped abruptly._

_Anxiety crept up my ribs, listening to the faint padding of his feet in the sand as he approached. Dream was scary, you’d have to be stupid not to know that, but I’d never feared him before._

_Silence. Then a hand touched my own, fingertips brushing over the knuckles covering my face, centimeters away from my eyelids. It guided my hand away from my eyes, and I stared up at Dream, his mask returned._

_“You didn’t look.”_

***

“We’ve been working on decorating for the festival,” Tubbo said. “Everyone will be there.”

I nodded. “It’s… It’s a chance to do something.” I peeked outside the window, in case anyone came to visit the president’s apprentice: or whatever Tubbo had become. “Tubbo, come to Pogtopia. We can still infiltrate the festival without you there.”

“But then Schlatt will know!” Tubbo protested. “This is what I have to do, Wander, and I can do it.”

I breathed in deeply. “Wilbur’s planted TNT all below L’manberg.”

The young man fiddled with the edge of his shirt. “I know.”

I looked at him sadly. “He can’t be the one to replace Schlatt, Tubbo.”

“Yeah.” He didn’t meet my gaze. “I don’t know if blowing it all up is the best idea, I think we can figure something out. Maybe Schlatt will just leave.”

“Maybe.” I doubted so, but admired Tubbo’s optimism so much. “If I can find time to talk to Quackity, I will.”

Schlatt’s right hand man, Quackity, had been slinking around “Manberg” with an increasingly ashamed and fearful look. He struck me as reasonable. He struck me as having followed the ideas, not the man, and been burned by the combination of the two. However, Schlatt rarely left him alone. Quackity might end up isolated, and I frowned at the thought.

“Hey, Wander. Do you trust that new guy, Technoblade? He’s kind of weird, isn’t he?”

I laughed. “Who isn’t? But yes,” I added, seeking to quell his fears, “I think Technoblade might be just what we need.”

I didn’t tell Tubbo about the restless walks Techno would go on, how he would disappear for days and return nonchalantly. He most certainly had another base, given the number of resources he could find seemingly at will. Technoblade was the power and the unshaken ideal we needed. He was also an ends to a means kind of man. He was all hard exterior and muted confidence. I saw few cracks, but hoped nevertheless that our ambitions would slip their way in. I left Tubbo with a few gifts, a hug, and a promise to return.

***

“I don’t know what to do about Wilbur,” Tommy muttered, digging through his chest and sending all he deemed useless flying.

I flinched at the ruckus. “Shh. I know.” I stood at the door, watching for people not so fond of our makeshift country. Always a guard, it seemed.

“He can’t blow up L’manberg, Wander, it’s ours! We worked so hard for it and he can’t just blow it to pieces. We need to get it back.”

“I know, Tommy, it’s just…” I bit my bottom lip. “I don’t know. You did work so hard.”

I’d come to L’manberg late, after fights between Dream and the boys had begun, after King Eret had led them to the final control room. They watched me with distrust born of battered hearts. They were bruised. I was too. In the end, that is what won them over. Kindred veteran spirits.

“Wilbur thinks it’s his,” I said quietly. “And he’s not entirely wrong. He just thinks he’s lost it forever, that they’ve tainted it and changed it too much to ever come back. If we weren’t around, he’d have blown it up already.”

“Good fucking luck to him, then,” Tommy said sharply. “I won’t let him.”

I turned to find Tommy clutching an ender chest tightly. I smiled, and let our fiery eyes set each other aflame. “Of course not.”

“And then we’ll go after my discs,” Tommy added quickly. “And it’ll be all over.”

I nodded. “Yes, after. We’ll get Dream to give them back.”

***

Fundy stood at the end of the path, eyes wide. I stood opposite him, frozen. Putting my hands in the air, I crept towards him. The night sweltered around, swarming in, dark pressure. L’manberg glowed around us. I wasn’t supposed to be here. He knew it as well as I did.

“Please,” I whispered, “please, Fundy. Let me go.”

His tail twitched, but he stayed silent. I moved a little closer.

“We can do it,” I said softly. “We can remove Schlatt from office, and we’ll all be free. Don’t be scared.”

Fundy shook his head. “Scared?”

I came to stand right before him. My armor reflected in his eyes. “I think we’re on the same side.”

He sighed, and stepped aside. I smiled widely at him. Every person unconvinced by Schlatt was a small victory. As I crept past, I placed a hand on his shoulder. “I will make them listen if you want to talk.”

***

The water rose in the river as the days raced blindly towards the festival. Each step became more strained, weighed down by a canvas bag and a barely beating hope. I worked with the mistaken ferocity of a cornered wildcat. Sometimes, when jokes cost nothing and the ravine filled with sun, I nearly forgot the shifting within each of us. Wilbur’s thin lips always reminded me otherwise.

Sitting outside Pogtopia, back against the cold cobblestone tower, I watched the sun dip below the barren land. Coming from “Manberg”, with all its creations both wonderful and bizarre, the world seemed so empty out here. That was part of the appeal. I shivered. I’d come up to escape the claustrophobic feel of underground, but up here I only felt alone. At least the heat-streaked sky was pretty.

We’d found ourselves a group of rebellious friends no more; we’d strutted far past a minor discourse over land. Every word carried political poison. Tubbo had turned into a liar. Tommy swore against any seeming opposing force. Wilbur… It was all necessary. Indeed, Schlatt was a villain, and the oppressing atmosphere within our L’manberg couldn’t be hallucinated.

The fight by the tower only a few days past left ghost roaming around. I shifted, too aware of where I sat. The shouts for help had echoed across the field, the splashing of armoured men floundering in the river had added to the confusion. Sapnap, chest swollen with pride, had charged at a boastful Tommy, the blond child bolstered by Technoblade and an uncomfortably familiar lean masked figure. Dream, amused by fate and violence, had swooped down mercilessly on his friends, chiding Sapnap all the while. I hated how my movements mirrored his. I hated his bright voice while threatening his companions. When my boot sank deep into the riverbed, allowing Sapnap to gain an upper hand, I hated how his head tilted to the side, as though weighing options. Technoblade stepped in. His crown lopsided, he had stood over me and moved to strike Sapnap down. Then Dream was there, sword bursting through Sapnap’s chest, nodding at Technoblade in respect and turning away without sparing me a glance. He pulled his sword free and dashed off as though he hadn’t chosen to be there. I hated watching Sapnap’s swagger die, disintegrate, and float off as I’d already seen too many times before.

I knew I’d see it much more. At least we’d always come back so far.

Few things made the hatred bearable: my friends, bold and supportive. Niki’s quiet strength. Fundy’s hesitation. Technoblade’s hand, extending to help me out of the water, accompanied by the deep voice telling me to be careful.

The sun dwindled away completely, until the distant stars and grumbling zombies drove me below ground once again. I took a deep breath before descending to help Tommy harvest food. As my feet thudded hollowly through the ravine, my mind at last settled on the worst of it.

I was proud of being well liked. But people were everything in this war.

I hated how good I was at this.

***

“I’m leaving it up to Tubbo. Don’t tell Tommy.”

My eyes followed Wilbur’s path, back and forth.

“Tell me where the button is.”

“No.”

“Please.”

“No.” He spun around, his yellow coat billowing. “You’ll take it down.”

“Please,” I pleaded. “We’ll kill Schlatt at the festival, you, me, Tommy, Tubbo, Technoblade.”

“We can’t get L’manberg back, Wander. They’ve taken it, ruined it, and I can’t see it go on so… so tainted,” he said, tottering unsteadily. “But I’ve conceded! Don’t you see? Tubbo is good, he’s a good man, we all know it. So why shouldn’t he choose? If Tubbo thinks L’manberg is too far gone, then isn’t it?”

I stood, but still had to look up to meet his eyes. “Wilbur, Tubbo adores you. He will follow your suggestions, he… He admires you. You lead them both for so long, him and Tommy. How could he contradict you?”

“You underestimate him.”

“His devotion is not a weakness,” I said firmly. “Never.”

Wilbur sighed, and flopped down on a stiff bed. “Sure, sure.” He adjusted his hat, which barely flattened his wild curls. “It’s up to him. I’ll let him know soon.” He waved his hand, shooing me towards the door.

I disobeyed, and sat next to him. Delicately, I placed a hand on his. When Wilbur looked at me this time, I saw the depth from before. The wit and wisdom. The gentle hand that followed the pointed words.

“If you blow up L’manberg, you will have nothing left,” I said. “It is everything to you, Will, as it should be. You brought it to life and gave it purpose. I wish it weren’t,” I added, “because we’re all here too. But I know it is. And I don’t want to see you go with it.”

He listened without blinking, without looking away. The dark circles under his eyes made him look far too old, far too distraught. His fingernails were broken and dirty. He was far from the moral, proper leader he’d once been. When I finished, he smiled sadly, and squeezed my hand.

I think I knew before anyone else that Wilbur was dead.


	3. See Nothing Beyond

_The depths of the Nether were alien, oozing a crimson light off crumbling blocks that, contrarily, were cold to the touch. The torch I held aloft wavered, casting warped shadows. Ahead, Technoblade grunted. Shrapnel of nether quartz littered the ground._

_“It is a painstaking process.”_

_I tiptoed behind him, looking past the rhythmic swing of his pickaxe for signs of ancient debris. The wall ahead remained a flat red._

_“It’s alright,” I reassured him. “I just appreciate you coming with me.”_

_Technoblade straightened, rolling his shoulders back with a sigh. His pink braid dangled down his back; it was coming apart. Not thinking, I reached out and picked it up off his back. Technoblade made a coughing sound and rapidly turned around. I dropped the thick hair, hands going up in the hair, palms flat towards him, suddenly deeply embarrassed._

_“I’m sorry,” I said quickly._

_He squinted at me. “It’s alright. Unexpected, is all.”_

_Unexpected. Like how his own hands had jumped in the air, away from his sheathed weapons. I looked down in the burlap sack I held. A few fragments of debris dully reflected the flame. Technoblade would appreciate the letting go. “Thank you.”_

_“Oh, we aren’t done. As long as you’re alright to keep going,” he added._

_“Yes please.”_

_My diamond armour no longer brought pride, and glittered cheaply next to the shadowed purple of Technoblade’s chest plate. With conflict inevitable, I needed an upgrade. Technoblade offered a guiding hand in the infinite search. As we toiled beneath hell’s surface, the relief from leaving behind creeping lava replaced by a sinister chill, we spoke in starts and stops. It seemed Technoblade would drop his guard after a few minutes of easy conversation, only to clam up with no warning. His deep voice easily filled the tunnel, and when he quieted, I missed the lullaby of baritone._

_Tommy ran circles around the man, a non-stop stream of words, which wasn’t much different than normal. Tubbo, waiting for my hushed visits, would stand on the balls of his feet until I crested the hill, and I was never sure if he hoped for his best friend or the legend. Wilbur switched daily between incessant strategizing with him, and ignoring him entirely. I watched Technoblade sharpen his axe every night and laughed at his wry comments: especially when it made his eyebrows raise slightly._

_An obsidian wall never suited me well._

_“You’re not exactly a… a warrior.”_

_“Shocking,” I joked, and he chuckled. We sat down on the dusty ground. I pressed my knees to my chest, wincing as the armour groaned in resistance. “I try, but I’m more suited to other things.”_

_“You talk,” Technoblade noted. “Wilbur, he likes sending you for any conversations. Although I don’t suppose me or Tommy would even be considered a choice.”_

_“And those are only the conversations Will knows about.” I glanced up at Technoblade. He stared calmly at the wall across, heavy lidded eyes unbothered._

_“Talking is all well and fine, but I don’t think we’ll get ourselves out of a confrontation,” he said. “Power. That’s what people always care about.”_

_I rested my head back against the wall. “You certainly aren’t alone in that.”_

_His eyes swiveled over. “You disagree.” Not a question. His fingers rose slowly to the unravelling braid, and I watched them hover. A more delicate motion than I’d seen from this mountain of a man before._

_“Not really,” I admitted. “I think my view of power is just broader.”_

_Swiftly, he stood, lifting his pickaxe easily from the ground. “Let’s get you some netherite.” He turned to the dead end of the tunnel._

_Just like that. Shut down. The crown sat lopsided on his head, a blaring display of prowess. Surely an intimidation tactic. I stood up, emboldened, and swung my own kind of power._

_My hand flashed out and grabbed a fistful of his cape. “I trust you, you know. I think you feel more comfortable on the outskirts. Being there lets you get away with such physical power. I’m happy you’ve found what you’re good at, but having allies can be even better.”_

_“Please let go,” he said flatly._

_I did. He looked over his shoulder, brows furrowed in an unusual display of uncertainty. Almost… disappointment. I kept my chin up to see it all._

_“My partnership with your friends is for our mutual benefit. You won’t like what I want once Schlatt is gone.”_

_“That won’t be enough for them,” I said._

_He shrugged. “They can’t afford to lose me.”_

_“You can’t afford to lose your foothold here. You can see and hear it all when you’re with us. When I’m the one talking.” His head dipped, breaking our gaze. “Techno, tearing down one government will only bring about another.”_

_“Exactly. You seem to fully understand; I don’t know why we’re having this conversation honestly.” He’s not a good liar._

_“Techno-” I exhaled, and started again. “Techno, I will talk to them. We can find a solution.”_

_He looked at me with those deep eyes, said “okay”, lifted his hand briefly only to hide it again behind his back, and this is the closest I get to a thank you. It more than sufficed._


	4. These Truths Are Tightly Bound

_His gloved fingers traced across the inked sky, gliding from star to star. I followed along, embarrassingly entranced by the soft tone in which he described the legends. Old stories he knew from long ago, refurbished for my ears._

_The grass tickles my neck and his sly jokes tickle my lungs. He would never be caught out here by his friends, who love to ridicule his mythical fascination. Contrarily, the human side of Dream charms me._

_“Herme’s lyre,” he explained, “represents the messenger god. I think the sound of the lyre is pretty well suited to the night sky.”_

_Every morning I am reminded how powerful he is by the well-stocked kitchen and arsenal. We do not want. He lounges outdoors with no sword. He is patient with his hands and speedy with his tongue. Our home is secure, friends within the same walls. Tonight, I am reminded why he asked me to come with him and why I accepted._

_It is when he shifts from past to present, when he chuckles at the newly established country, condescending, that the moon’s glow no longer seems enough._

***

Tubbo’s suit fit well, but somehow made him look small. Perhaps it was Quackity, who seemed much more at ease; far different from his shrunken state mere days ago, which made me nervous. Or Fundy, who kept piping up from the crowd below, eagerly offering help. Or, of course, Schlatt, parading around with brazen smugness. One would have thought the boastfulness of his election win would have faded.

I squeezed myself into a nook of the nearby building. Behind me, Tommy and Wilbur bickered about positioning. They faded into white noise. Below us, our friends and our enemies milled up. There was Niki, eyes red and hands fidgeting, lips moving swiftly as she leaned into Eret. The king themselves watched it all with a cool air, typically unflinching. Technoblade stood to the side with his arms folded. We heard Schlatt welcome him personally with a smirk; Technoblade, not an official enemy of Manberg, seemed a prize for the president to wave about.

A hand tapped me on the head, and I looked up to see Tommy leaning over the roof’s edge. He hauled me up, my head cresting to see Wilbur crouching at the edge with hazed eyes firmly rooted on Tubbo.

“If he says, ‘Let the festival begin’, then I’ll go hit the button.”

Tubbo’s speech is through chattered teeth, and I shriveled at the sight of our child soldier with his neatly folded kerchief and pinstripe blazer. He stood next to Schlatt at the podium with the president glowering down. Schlatt kept urging him on, pressing metaphorical fingers into Tubbo’s easily bruised skin, and I saw Technoblade step forward once, then twice. Tommy asked what’s going on over and over. My knees scuffed against the concrete ceiling. Fundy looked up, sees me through sunset fur, looked away. I breathed. Wilbur kept edging away then returning, the conflict in his eyes growing to a hurricane.

“Is that all there is to the speech, Tubbo?”

Schlatt and Quackity began stacking bricks in front of the throne, giggling to themselves, while Schlatt rambled about Tubbo: young, loyal, brave Tubbo, who left his friends for the city, who always did what the president wanted, hm? Tubbo, backing into the shining chair, squeaked out to let the festival begin, and Wilbur took off, long legs stretching across the roof and launching himself down. Tommy started after him, shouting, until I yanked him back by the sleeve. I clapped a hand over his mouth and we stared. Schlatt, smile wide with malice and knowledge, beckoned a finger to the crowd.

“Technoblade.”

The crowned man walked up the steps slowly, sizing everything up. His cape dragged behind him like a veil. Standing tall on the podium, Technoblade gazed across the crowd. He didn’t look at us.

“Techno would never,” Tommy whispered. “He’s on our side, he’s on our side. Kill Schlatt, Techno, come on!”

I desperately looked behind me, hoping to see Wilbur returning with wisdom and grace, but couldn’t even see him scampering into the hills. Schlatt moved a pawn forward, asking Technoblade, all but a neutral party, to kill the traitor to Manberg. A L’manberg loyalist. We tensed. Technoblade sighed, looking back and forth between our trapped friend and the hungry leader.

“I’m sorry, Tubbo. I’ll make it as beautiful as possible.”

When the explosion rocketed off, in a burst of red, white, and yellow, I lurched forward, barely catching the lip of the building. The ground trembles far below, as though seen through a heat wave. My ears rang, and in the static of shattered air, a scream pierced through. My jaw hung open, but it was Tommy who voiced the anguish until he ran hoarse. Technoblade’s cape billowed behind him, and flakes floated around him. Greys and light blues and whites scattered, illuminated thoroughly by a second shot of pinks and oranges. Schlatt was thrown to the ground, horns cracking and breaking into dust as well. Quackity shouted near nonsense, and the festival collapsed into ferocity.

We tore down to the center of town, smoldering, shouting for Tubbo. With each step I flinched, waiting for one to set off the laced dynamite, one misstep to start anew a quake. They rushed for us, and I knocked aside a few swords, caught a few arrows in the arm and shield. We were not fighters. We were a rescue team, screaming for Tubbo. He’d always known he had the most dangerous job, but I had promised, we had promised we would win swiftly and he could call this shaking ground home again. Technoblade emerged from the smoke, shoving aside Quackity while sheltering Niki. She was pale. Tommy hit him over and over with a flat palm, tears streaking down the smoke along his cheeks. Technoblade allowed it, looking over all our heads. With stone steady hands, he fired again and again, showering the world with dreaded colour. Beauty engulfed us. The bursting heat pinpricked my face like scorched freckles, and I turned away from the horrid splendor. Screams suddenly silenced rung in my ears anyways. When Tubbo stumbled to our side over rubble, I grabbed his hand and began pulling us towards the secret passage in the fountain. Quackity fell. Fundy retreated, tail bloody. Schlatt bellowed from atop the platform, shoving a helmet over his mussed hair. Every detail left me as quickly as it had once come, and blurred together into a confusion of betrayal. I stared at Technoblade’s back as he charged forward. The earth splitting open as though carved by a godly hand. Splashing into the fountain, I fired arrow after arrow at the swarming crowd. My feet slowed against the tide, molasses akin to my mind. Aim was far from my mind. I scanned frantically for Wilbur. Though the world had fallen apart, Manberg still stood, and I feared he’d been apprehended. Where was our ghostly hero? If Schlatt knew our scheme, who was to say he didn’t know each intricate plot? Pants soaked through by the freezing fountain water, I ushered everyone down the tunnel. I practically shoved Tommy headfirst into the water, silencing his rage. Drenched and coughing, I watched the last sparks rise into the air, twinkling, showering down onto the destroyed throne. They shone beautifully. Something wrapped around my ankle and I was yanked into the depth without a chance to breathe in. The water pressure caved around my head, until the current thrust me out in the secret stairway. I collapsed onto the stone floor, gasping. Tubbo, hair darkened and plastered to his forehead, tugged fervently on my forearm. He apologized. He urged me to run.

Alive. He was alive, and I followed him on unsteady if unharmed feet.

Ahead, Niki, Tommy, Technoblade ran through the passage. Soon, we left the chaos and cacophony behind. The dissonance, save for the discord in each of our heads, faded. Our heavy breaths filled the long path. I shut my eyes, running along blindly for a moment. The darkness with the irregular beat of our feet silenced my mind. I tripped, nearly falling, and my eyes flashed open. Exiled. On the run. Surrounded by hurt. Once again.

***

“What the fuck! What the fuck?” Tommy exclaimed. He paced back and forth along the inside of Pogtopia, pausing only to gesture wildly at Technoblade. Tubbo opened and closed his mouth, stepping towards Tommy and then back again. The blond man ignored his friend completely, choosing instead to chew out Technoblade, who stood stock still with an unimpressed expression.

“You killed Tubbo! You fucking betrayed us! Why are you even here right now?” He leapt down a few stairs to an unfinished room. “Come fucking fight me! I’ll kill you!”

Niki tried to calm Tommy down, pleading, but soon Technoblade grew tired and raised his own voice in return. He stepped decisively down the stairs, brushing past Tubbo and I who stood with drooping shoulders.

“You know, Tommy? This is exactly why I did it. This supposed team is falling apart. We didn’t even have the excuse of popular vote. I was peer pressured, Tommy, and it became very clear that we weren’t ready for Schlatt! He knew! He knew everything! What, would you have replaced the government right then and there?”

“Fuck you!”

“Your government will collapse anyways, Tommy!”

With a strangled yell, Tommy threw himself at Technoblade, lifting a sword high. Technoblade pivoted, shield guarding his open side, while the younger man launched himself over and over. Eventually, when Tommy’s furious, nonsensical blows began to overwhelm him, Technoblade slashed back with a heavy hand. Tommy grunted in sharp pain as the sword battered his ribs and left to-be-bruises. Technoblade knocked Tommy backwards, flat onto the ground and pointed the sword at his neck. Tommy slapped it away with his bare hand, cursing, before standing again. As he prepared to leap back in, I hopped into the pit.

“Enough! Please, enough!” I planted myself between them, just in time for Tommy to knock into me. I staggered, feet skidding in the gravel. “That’s enough,” I spit out, glaring down Tommy.

Tommy stuttered out more profanities and words that could not be taken back. He demanded Technoblade leave. He withdrew his trust. He swore to get vengeance for Tubbo. He said so much, and my heart sunk deeper still.

Technoblade straightened and sheathed his sword. “Consider yourself lucky, Tommy, that I didn’t use my axe.” I shifted my hard look onto him, but he stared over my head. “Tommy, the thing is, you're using words. But the thing about this world, Tommy, is that the only universal language is violence; and we've had that conversation. We've spoken that language: in the pit. It's over, Tommy. On to a new day. A new plot to destroy Manberg.”

Tommy’s jaw hung agape, silenced for once. The lack of sparks from his golden throat disturbed me greatly. The boy had no silver tongue, but his voice had never faltered. I needed to go. I felt ill.

“Come on.” I marched out of the hole, head down, unable to meet Tubbo and Niki’s wide eyes. I trusted them to handle Tommy. As for Technoblade…

I stalked out of the cavern and began climbing the stairs. I could hear his boots clunking behind me, echoing emptily through the stony walls. His thin lips would never part first, for he never willingly gave up pride, but how was I to-

“Are you alright Wander?”

I pulled my granite legs up the last few steps until we each stood on the rickety wooden boards spanning the ravine. Below, the thin voices of our companions faded, moving behind a slamming door. Anxiously, I let silence fill the warped space between us, waiting to hear shouts from pursuers. Nothing.

I turned to face him. Technoblade stood patiently, edges of his cape scorched and his cheek smudged with soot. I crossed my arms, tilting my face away to give him only the sharpness of my jaw. Turmoil bubbled across my lips. Anger presented itself easily on my emotional exterior, though only as a disguise to hurt.

“I don’t know if Tommy will trust you ever again,” I exhaled. Technoblade’s feet shifted. “They might ask you to leave.”

“That wouldn’t change my plans.”

“I know,” I snapped, then dropped my chin to my chest. “Techno, I don’t- I’m sorry. Even if you didn’t want to, you still…”

My toes dragged across the platform, relishing in every gap as though searching for an escape. We continued upwards. The blustering fields of above wouldn’t be safe. Yet the isolated torches barely staving off natural pitch made my lungs tighten.

“At least, they’re going to make you prove yourself in some way. This half trusting won’t work anymore. And that’s only if Tubbo forgives you.” Strategy pushed my mind through loops and hoops, forcing full concentration on anything but the creeping numbness. My knees protested each incline. “I can talk to him, to all of them, they have a lot of understanding to give. And we’ll try again. Besides, it’s probably better to try and catch Schlatt rather alone than some sort of performance-”

“I don’t understand how you do that.”

Technoblade never asked questions. This was halfway to one, and it stunned me into turning around. His hand, as always, drifted near his axe, but his eyes lingered just below mine, as though studying all my freckles. That strong brow creased more than usual, disturbing the monotonous stance. My heart fluttered. I tried to stay it with an equally trembling hand.

“You trust them all even though their end goals are different from yours.” He cleared his throat. “They’re all different from you. I don’t understand how you can put so much… faith, in them. You talk about trust so much, but I don’t see you demanding it.”

What was it indeed about my friends that separated them from figures like Schlatt and Dream? We threw ourselves onto the cold earth over and over for each other with no promises save for pinkies wrapped up by muted bonfires. Yet it was enough. The pink flush of their cheeks as we sprinted away, the dazzle of their courageous eyes, the hands that shook but never hesitated. Most of all, the quick smiles.

“They care,” I said simply. “All of them.

“That’s why we all work together with few issues. And it’s why they don’t always trust you. It’s easier to fight, to speak, when it comes from the heart. There will always be a grain of truth if you care. And you don’t care about anything, Techno.” I shook my head, looking at him, openly wounded.

His lips quirked. “Well, that’s just not true.”

Tendrils of burning smoke reached my nose, my eyes, stung and stuck against the roof of my mouth. Colourful, destructive sparks.

“I care about you.”

The slight tug by his fangs, the glint of worry in his coal eyes, the burst of a dazzling rocket. I stood overwhelmed by his shadow, the wide shoulders like a near insurmountable peak. His humour warped by his clenching and unclenching fist, I stared, lips parted. Shaken by the words. Shaken by the breath. Baritone all the way to my toes. We stood, silence looming in the impossibly huge moment, my heart racing nearly as quickly as my brain. Footsteps started suddenly above us, and then there was Wilbur creeping around the corner. He brushed his hair back with dirty hands, taking us both in with a gleam in his eye that I recognized from years ago. He smirked Technoblade swallowed. I looked at Wilbur, and watched the plot unfold before us in the madman’s image.

***

Tubbo picked me a bouquet of wildflowers and it was the nicest part of the day.

There are very few in attendance, almost all of whom are in their regular attire. I think there was only a ceremony to plant fear in Technoblade’s heart and, perhaps, to try and comfort me. They do not understand which part of this terrified me the most.

It was the way Technoblade refuses to look in my eyes when he delicately took my hands and held them close to his chest. His fingers were rough, his palms warm. It was the pale blue of his new coat that softened his features. It was the grim acceptance swirled with… something akin to regret. It was how I knew he would never carry my companionship the same.

The politics grew more complicated by the day while the bruises on Tommy’s ribs faded. Tommy wore his normal clothes and allowed Niki to slick his hair back. His sapphire eyes never left Technoblade’s hands, while mime remained rooted on his faintly furrowed brow. He didn’t look

Wilbur dressed up to match the rich, smug tilt to his head. His foot tapped out an irregular rhythm on the moist ground. Wilbur looked as though he ought to be waltzing through an awed crowd, dashing, proud peacock. It had been his plan, after all.

I had donned a dress Niki pulled out of an old dress for me, a colour so faded it neared white. A whisper of a bride. A hushed celebration. A breath of hope.

I knew Wilbur was gone in the way he announced his plan. Boldly, loudly, in front of everyone so there was no room for argument. I remembered Technoblade’s calculated stance and expression, Tubbo’s voice pitching with delight and then concern. Tommy, demanding the price be paid someway. They asked me if it was okay, and interrupted to repeat how perfect the idea was. The cavern listened.

A wedding. A vow to the woman standing dummy for the cause.

They trusted my loyalty. Promise, they insisted, promise to her, and by proxy, the flag.

I plaited his hair the night before, the strands uncharacteristically soft. I left the room before the day shrunk into night.

There were no rings. The beads, the jewels, the chains gracing Technoblade’s wear blinded me. They were cold and harsh. His hands were starkly warm against the cool morning. I was so, so sad. And I smiled to wage war against the bitter taste dancing on his tongue, held back by thin lips. He smiled back.


End file.
